One day, I showed up at the ballpark to watch my favorite team, and the staff at the gate said my seats were being upgraded to sit in the dugout with the players. At first, I thought they were kidding because I'm typically the opposite of the luckiest guy you'll ever meet, but, what the hell, if they were beckoning me to follow, who was I to turn it down? So I'm walking along with the guy -- he told me his name was Bruno, like Bruno Mars, the singer? You heard of him? Anyway, this guy Bruno is walking me down to this tunnel I never even noticed before, even though I come to maybe forty games a season and have ever since this ballpark opened back in '94. I'm just walking along with Bruno down in this tunnel and I'm trying to, ya know, make small talk and whatnot but he seemed kind of distracted, so I didn't want to pester him. That is, until we got right to the path that was gonna take me up to the dugout and then Bruno turns to me and, you'll never guess what he said. He said, "Mister, I picked you out of the line because you look almost exactly like my Uncle Donny. No one loved this team more than my uncle Donny and it was actually him who was supposed to get this opportunity, but he had a heart attack and died last night." Bruno, my new buddy Bruno, he got a tear in his eye while he's telling me about his poor Uncle Donny and I patted his arm to comfort him, ya know, but all I could think was goddamnit, I've never been so happy to be a bald-headed bearded-man before this very moment. Uncle Donny, god rest ya! So, Bruno, he tells me that he got permission to have his Uncle Donny watch this game from the dugout with the team to celebrate his retirement or some situation like that and as it so happened, I also just retired, so me and Uncle Donny have that in common, too. Luckily, my ticker's a-tickin', and I been vegan for the last twelve years to make my wife Sheila happy so I don't think I'll drop dead like Donny did anytime soon, but, well, now I feel like I should knock on wood or something... Like I said, I'm not typically the luckiest guy you'll ever meet, so I don't want to put it out there in the Universe that I couldn't possibly fall over dead from a heart attack like Bruno's uncle Donny, but, well, let's just say it's more likely my cat would push me out of a window than I'd have a heart attack. You should see my cholesterol! So anyway, Bruno's all teary-eyed about his Uncle Donny while he's escorting me into the dugout and, I gotta tell ya, I almost did have a heart attack, right then and there, because you ain't never seen a view as pretty as this one. The smell of the grass! The bats all lined up and the batting helmets all arranged and everyone just going about the business of getting ready for the game. Bruno took me over to meet one of the coaches and explains who I am and all the coach said was, "Sorry about Donny," while he kind of eyed me like I was going to rob the place or something. Anyway, Bruno shows me where I can sit and shows me the secret bathroom and I'm just watching the TV guys get set up and the players start to meander in. They didn't really pay any attention to Bruno or me but that was OK. One or two came over to say hi and offer us some gum and, I mean, I don't chew gum normally but I did when a pro ball player handed some to me. I guess if he'd said it was cool to jump off the Golden Gate Bridge, I'd've gladly done that, too, it was just that neat. Anyway, as the game started up, I pulled my radio out and turned on the broadcast -- with headphones because sometimes the radio guys rag on the players and I was just trying to be respectful -- and I gotta tell ya, it was just the most terrific time I ever did have at the ballpark. Bruno, he sat there with me all nine innings and when the game was over, he and I had become so buddy-buddy, I thought he was gonna start calling me Uncle Donny. Ha! Well, I'm kidding about that, but we did get to know each other and he accepted my friend request on Facebook so I guess you could say me and Bruno are pals now. It truly was just the best day I ever did have, and all because I kinda looked like a guy who dropped dead from a heart attack, poor bastard. I saw a photo of Uncle Donny sometime down the line and, truth be told, I don't think anyone would mistake us for the other but, hey, who am I to second guess Bruno's decision? After that day, grass never did quite smell the same to me, either. Just never did smell the same.
Monday, February 6, 2023
Saturday, February 4, 2023
I Know Differently
As the sun rises over the horizon, I pull my collar up to keep my neck warm from the chill. I'm not the sort who prefers the cold but I am the sort who prefers routine and ritual and this daily trek to see you is part of that. Sometimes, though, the rain does keep me away. Cold, though, cold I can confront, mind-over-matter, and even make a game of seeing the smoke of my breath cut through the air as I exhale. This morning's frost makes my breath crystalize but what brings hope into my soul is that cut of sunbeam, slicing through the frigid morning.
Thursday, February 2, 2023
A Familiar Love
All at once a familiar face appeared and she knew what home felt like.
"Hey," he said, sitting on the edge of the raised concrete flowerbed outside her shop.
"Hey," she said, sliding her hand behind his neck as she drew him towards her for a kiss.
He got to his feet then and slid his hand into hers as they headed down the sidewalk towards Clark's where they were meeting their friends for trivia. Must be a Thursday. She liked how comfortable he'd become being this way with her in public, fingers interlacing in this overt display that they were safely out of the dreaded "friend zone" where they'd lived for so long.
"How was your day?" he asked her as the simple question made her heart skip a beat.
"The usual," she said, trying not to keep the moment's simplicity tucked away as a memory before the moment was even fully lived out. "Yours?" she asked, remembering her manners.
"Good," he said, almost as if the answer surprised him. "Better now that you're with me," he added.
She giggled as she noticed a slow blush creeping up his cheek. "Same, babe, same," she said and he opened the door to Clark's for her and they scoured the tables to see if anyone else had already arrived.
"We must be first," she said.
"Usual table is open at least," he said, escorting her over.
They'd been playing Thursday night trivia at Clark's for almost four years at this point. It's how they met -- her college roommate was dating one of his work buddies and somehow that magical coincidence brought this routine into their lives. That couple was now married with a one-year-old that they routinely left in his mother's capable care so they could continue on this quest to win The Cup, a prize that Clark's trivia hosts hand out quarterly. Teams had to participate in a certain number of contests per quarter even to qualify, so it was deemed important by their cohort of players that everyone be there as often as possible so that it upped their odds of claiming The Cup. They'd won the honor seven times, something no other trivia team in the history of Clark's had ever done.
"We're committed," they'd offered as a trophy acceptance speech the last time around.
As they sat at their regular table and waited for their married friends to join as well as the three other single people who were sullenly still in the acceptance faze that two of their other teammates had paired up, she leaned back in her chair and smiled at him.
"Remember when we met that first time?" she asked him.
He grinned. "Mostly I remember you getting more of the sports questions right in that night's game than me."
She swatted him with the back of her hand. "That's so sexist," she sighed in mock horror.
"What do you remember about that night?" he asked her.
She leaned over to look him square in the eye. "I remember thinking that it wasn't the first time we'd ever met. I remember thinking oh good, you're here. I remember feeling immediately like you already knew everything about me. I remember being so happy I showed up, even though I'd had a shit day and was even a little pissed that my roommate was dragging me to this stupid trivia night. I remember how comfortable it felt to have you hug me goodnight." She paused. "I remember how weird it felt that it might be a whole week until I saw you again."
He leaned in now, too. "So why'd it take us three and a half years?" he asked.
"Because that's how long it took," she said, her smile soft as she reached over to hold onto his hand once more as the familiar sounds of their friends' voices carried to them from the bar's front door.
First line by Meredith Brown
Virtual Tip Jar: Venmo @sarahwolfstar
Wednesday, February 1, 2023
Catharsis
It was nearing dawn and I was in that half awake, half asleep zone when a sudden rattling of my bedroom door brought me to an abrupt consciousness. I sat up, still not entirely sure the whole thing wasn't a dream until my eyes focused in on the door knob, now visibly turning. A chill ran through me as I instinctively pulled a pillow across my body.
The door opened then and revealed a shadowed figure standing still in the hallway as the door swung in and lightly tapped against my bedroom wall.
"Hi," a male voice said softly, almost kindly, as a whimper escaped from my lips.
"You're afraid," the voice went on, almost surprised by the assessment.
"Who are you?" I managed to ask. "Why are you here?"
The man stepped cautiously over the threshold, almost if he didn't want to track dirt on my bedroom floor. "I won't tell you who I am," he said, his voice still calm. "It doesn't matter who I am."
I pulled my covers more tightly around me as I continued to press my pillow against my chest. I watched the man almost materialize in front of me, no longer a shadow but a three-dimensional human wearing black tennis shoes, black sweatpants, and a black hoodie. He had a black wool hat on and a dark red beard that covered most of his face.
His eyes were a dark hazel and they searched mine intently.
"How are you?" he asked, standing now mere feet away from my bed. His arms hung at his side, hands empty, though the front pocket of his hoodie could have had something bulky in it. All I could do was stare at that pocket, hopelessly wondering if it was a knife or a gun.
"Are you here to harm me?" I asked.
"Do you want me to?" the man replied, almost a hint of mocking in his voice.
"Of course not," I snapped back, trying to calculate an escape route past this solid wall of a human inching ever closer to me.
The man smirks, leaning down now to look me dead in the eyes. "Are you sure?" he asked.
"Why would I want you to harm me?" I asked, feeling more reactive with every breath.
The man shrugged. "People want all kinds of strange things," he said, moving himself back into an upright position. He folded his arms across his chest, almost in a thoughtful way. "Sometimes people like being harmed."
"Who likes that?" I blurted out while the man chuckles back at me.
"Some people love being the victim," he said. "I've had people pay me, you know, to do exactly this."
"Break into their homes and assault them?" I asked. "Who would ever want you to do that?"
"Victims want that," the man said, as if I were quite stupid even to ask. "Plus, I haven't assaulted you. At least not yet," he added, his eyes narrowing.
"Well, I'm not a victim!" I yelped, somehow gaining mobility as I leapt from my bed and took off down my apartment's hallway, still clutching the pillow against my chest.
The man was quickly up behind me, though, and clamped a cold hand on my tank topped shoulder. "You can't run away," he said, his voice still serene.
His touch was paralyzing even though I could have easily broken out of his grip. I froze instead, the hairs on the back of my neck standing as his breath hit just behind my ear. He didn't say anything, he just breathed, as I started to cry.
"What do you want?" I asked again, regretting having left the safety of my bed. Standing here in my kitchen, I felt exposed. I wished I wasn't so anal retentive about putting away all of my utensils and gadgets. A wine opener, a knife, something sharp of any variety would have been welcome in this moment, except that everything was tucked away in a drawer while my knees shook and my fingers dug in to my pillow-shield.
"I want what you want," the man said, his breath hot on the back of my neck.
"What do you think I want?" I asked, my tears falling visibly onto the floor now.
"Catharsis," he said, placing his other hand on my other shoulder, making me feel locked into place.
"I don't understand," I pleaded.
"I could rape you," he said, his lips now hovering off my skin. "But I won't." His hands lifted off my shoulders and I nearly crumpled to the floor. "I could hit you, but I won't." He slowly moved around to stand in front of me, now barricading my kitchen doorway. "I could end your life," he said, pulling a carving knife out of his hoodie pocket and holding it expertly so I could see. "But I won't."
My body was at a full tremble as I gathered all of my strength to steady myself. "I don't understand," I said once more.
The man backed slowly away from me, back through the kitchen door into my living room. I could see my front door standing wide open. I could smell the building cleaning crew's bleach-heavy products out in the hall.
"Next time, remember to lock your door," the man said, walking backwards all the way to the exit before smirking as he slashed the knife through the air with a sense of expertise. I dropped the pillow to the floor, watching him turn on his heels and walk calmly out my apartment door. Without thinking, I ran after him, my heart pounding up into my throat. My hands gripped the doorframe, almost as if my body could fill it with the same immovable authority as his once did. I watched him walk down the hallway, the knife slid back in his pocket, a casual whistle puckering his lips as he pushed his way out the double glass doors that were my only safeguard from the outside world.
I watched him go and I stood there, my hands pressing so hard against the frame of the door that I could feel my arms start to cramp with pain. I watched him go as my brain spun the whistled melody he'd left me with on his way out into the early morning sun. I stood there, a barricade, and did nothing else but watch him go.
First line by Amy Thompson
2023
Virtual Tip Jar: Venmo @sarahwolfstar
Thursday, January 26, 2023
Invisible, It Seems
over the age of forty
Tuesday, January 10, 2023
The Caretaker
When he looked at her, all he saw were particles of light. Sometimes she was green and sometimes she glowed purple and sometimes she was a rainbow in human form. Those are her chakras, his supervisor had once explained before drifting away.
He understood.
He understood her.
He wasn't sure she fully knew he was there, part of her life in this mysterious way that only the telepathy of souls can explain. Sometimes, though, she'd radiate her emotions in his direction and he'd breathe them in as if they were the very thing that would sustain his life.
Not that he had a life, not in the same way she did. She was chosen, after all, for a purpose that was different than his own. Not better or worse, necessarily, but different. He'd learned this distinction by listening to human thoughts and seeing how their colors changed the deeper they'd sink into their struggle to understand their earthly existence.
What if there was nothing to understand, though, he wondered. What if there was nothing but light?
She glowed pink with blush when he thought such things while near her.
Once, he'd hovered just outside her dreams, curious about what her human brain processed while she slept, and he was stunned to see it was a swirl of colors, like spilled oil on the pavement. The colors, they took the shapes of earthbound things like horses and birds and mountains and caves, but never human. When she rested, she returned to nature in this way, and he wondered if she ever woke up with the smell of fresh rain filling her senses.
Mostly, he waited for her to be done with this human form so she could return to him and tell him what it was like, really like, to walk and talk and be the one who contributed to the evolution of her unbound soul.
Without the restrictions that come with his role as her caretaker and her role as a human, they could melt together and be their highest frequencies, unparalleled equals as as beings are meant to be. Not like they are now in their hierarchy where she is the adventurer and he is the one who carries her home.
All he knows of her, anyway, is love.
She walks in human form to teach that love, to be that love, to express that love, no matter what.
He's watched her take this on so many times, so often in combat with others whose colors are encased with shiny, metallic armor that barricade them to sides. Whatever pain or suffering or hardship she faces as this avatar, he sees it shine through the colors she continually emits no matter what -- and he feels it through the emotions she conveys. It startles him when he knows she's hurting because he has never felt such things himself. He's only seen the colors and learned to decipher what they mean.
Sometimes when he sees her vibrations are especially low, he'll whisper telepathically, shh, darling, it will be ok, and he'll wait to see her dull spectrum brighten once more.
Does she know it's me? he asked his supervisor, who answered with a stillness that taught him it didn't matter either way.
It was his job to watch over her, nothing more. Watch and wait and sometimes whisper -- while she, that radical burst of light, conveyed the secrets of love to any human form who drew near.
2023
Virtual Tip Jar: Venmo @sarahwolfstar